The Night's Children
by wondertross
Summary: First Witchblade attempt. uh, I don't know what else to say, missing kids, blah, please read and review.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Night's Children  
Author's Note: I warn you, this is my first attempt at Witchblade fic. I've always wanted to do a more fantasy type story and here's my chance. This is a stand alone from the show and the comic, because I confess I've only seen bits of the show, and have never read the comic. It's rated for language and violence. I kind of took some liberties with the history of the Jake character, so please don't kill me, or flame me, whatever.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
~*~  
The child squirmed beneath the fiery gaze, fighting back tears, managing to keep herself to a low whimper. It was cold here, so cold. The chill bore through her thick parka like a hot knife through butter. It didn't help that she was wet too, the dampness chilled her to the core, and she could do nothing but shiver. Shiver and watch the demonic red eyes.  
  
The girl, Trina, couldn't have been more than eight or nine. She remained huddled in one corner, in the dark. Actually the whole room where she was being kept was dark, but somehow, in her eyes, the corner seemed darker. She wanted her mother, her warm, comforting embrace surrounding her and pulling her close. She'd give anything to hear her father's deep baritone, or too see the way his lips quivered as he snored.  
  
There had been others with her once, other children about her age. One little boy cried almost a day straight. She knew it was a day simply because the demon changed clothes when the new day came. The kids didn't get to change clothes. One girl had soiled herself so much that the entire room was permeated with the stink of urine. She had been the first to go. The boy followed after that. Trina wasn't exactly sure where they had gone, all she knew was that they weren't coming back.  
  
--  
  
Sarah Pezzini walked toward her office, her head down and long, dark hair drifting over her eyes. She was doing her best to avoid talking to anyone, especially Dante, her Captain. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to rip the Witchblade from her wrist and cast it aside forever. Not for the first time either. She had never asked for this responsibility, never even had the chance to say yes when it was given to her. All the Witchblade had done had in the last few months was make her life very, very hard.  
  
Everyone she loved was gone, or at least, everyone she knew that she loved. She was still debating on whether or not seeing Danny, her ex, now dead partner, was a good thing. But even that had lead to yet another complication with her life, and his name was Jake McCarty. She didn't have the patience or the energy to train a rookie cop, which is why she usually ended up ditching him anyway. It wasn't that she didn't like the man, he seemed like he had the potential to be a good cop, he had a natural instinct for investigation in fact, but there was just so much else on her mind. Not to mention that Jake had no idea about the Witchblade, and it wasn't something she could just mention in passing.  
  
Sarah entered her office and shut the door behind her, noting thankfully that her new partner had yet to arrive. She rubbed self consciously at the metal band encircling her wrist. She wondered what she was going to do in the summer, when it got hot. Long sleeve shirts to cover the bracelet were fine for winter, but summers in New York were merciless. But the last thing she needed was to have a glowing red beacon shining on her bare arm whenever danger came near. She was a cop; danger was always near.  
  
She'd dreamed again last night. She was getting used to the nightmares now, not that it made them any easier to bare. They were always gruesome, always about death, her death in some sense or another. This time the dream was of Joan of Arc. Well, Sarah reconsidered, she thought it was Joan of Arc anyway. The people in her dream spoke French. The very idea that she was having dreams in a language she did not speak was disconcerting.  
  
Nottingham had been sitting outside her window again she just knew it. The man always managed to show up in the most unexpected places, but she always knew where he was at night. Right outside her window, on the roof of the adjoining building. She had grown used to this distant relationship and most of the time she simply ignored him. He was like a second shadow.  
  
"It's freezing!" Jake's ever jovial, ebullient voice interrupted her thoughts. Sarah looked up slightly, giving him the barest hint of a smile before casting her vacant gaze back down onto the report she wasn't reading.  
  
"It's January," she said curtly by way of answer. She couldn't help herself, teasing him was far too easy. She missed seeing Jake stick his tongue out playfully.   
  
"I'm aware Pez. I'm not that stupid." Sarah lifted an eyebrow, nah that was too easy. "Don't respond to that," he amended quickly. Sarah almost shook her head, at least he was learning. "You know Pez, if you're going to be like that I might just decide to keep the espresso I bought you for myself."  
  
That perked Sarah up immediately. Caffeine was her saving grace. And it was one good thing she could say about McCarty, he knew good coffee. "hand it over rookie," Sarah half ordered, holding her hand out expectantly. Jake shook his head and remained where he was. Sarah crossed the distance between them in two strides, but now Jake was holding the cup over his head, and just out of her reach.  
  
His large azure eyes twinkled with mirth. "Come now Pez, manners. What do you say?"  
  
Pezzini drew herself up to her full height, standing toe to toe with the California native. Her eyes narrowed and she stared him down. "I'd say that you should give me that cup before I kick your ass and take it."  
  
McCarty's eyes widened a little as he realized that Sarah was only half joking. Not to mention that he wasn't entirely sure she couldn't do it. "Not exactly the answer I was looking for, but in your case I think it works." He handed the cup down meekly. Sarah felt smug as she took it from his grasp. Jake frowned, "You're absolutely no fun Pez."   
  
"It's nine o'clock on a Monday morning. Fun is not in my vocabulary."  
  
"Is it ever?" Sarah took the opportunity to flip off her partner.  
  
They fell silent after that, each working on their reports. By all respects it had been a relatively slow couple of weeks, with only two more murders to add to their files.   
  
Dante managed to quickly destroy any hope for serenity in the day. He barged straight in through the closed door and slammed a slim file down on Sarah's desk. His dark eyes smoldered and his eyes were narrowed into slits. "New case," he stated gruffly. "The two of you are to drop anything else you're working on and focus on this, it's a priority."  
  
Sarah mumbled something under her breath, but Dante still heard her. "What is it Petzini, you got sometin to add?"  
  
"What case is it sir, and why is it high priority?" Jake had to hide his smile behind his hand. He had distinctly heard his partner say Dante was a prick. Sarah smiled innocently.  
  
"You two do know that several kids in the area have been kidnapped lately right?" Two heads bobbed up and down in unison. "I want you two to snap to and find the kidnapper."  
  
"Sir, with all due respect, we don't handle kidnapping cases. Shouldn't the feds be called in?" If looks could kill then Jake would have been embalmed and buried.  
  
"Technically McCarty these aren't kidnapping cases. There have been no ransom demands, no private or public contact. These kids have all just disappeared. One of those kids just happens to be the Mayor's daughter. Satisfied?"  
  
Sarah was too tired to deal with Dante's bull. "So why don't we just file this with missing persons and let them deal with it. We're homicide detectives, we're not trained for this sort of thing." In truth she just wanted to avoid getting involved in what was sure to be a complete mess. She didn't need the added stress. She had found a gray hair the previous morning, honestly.  
  
Dante smiled arrogantly. He handed Pezzini a small slip of paper with an address, near the waterfront. "Yes you are detective, because as of an hour ago, this case just became a homicide investigation. Now get your gear and get your asses down to the crime scene."  
  
--  
  
The Witchblade was going nuts. The light shone completely through the first two layers of her clothing. It felt massively hot, yet managed not to burn her skin. The closer she got to the old warehouse, the more the gauntlet glowed.   
  
You'd think there had been a mass murder judging by the number of cops on scene. Plain clothes and uniforms swarmed everywhere. There were two news trucks parked just outside the police line and a low hum from the reporters could be heard from half a block away. The mayor and the rest of his family, wife and two sons, stood huddled together by their limo. Two hulking men stood on either side of the family. They were obviously waiting to see if the child was their daughter.  
  
'Idiots," Sarah cursed silently. The amount of media attention this was going to get was insane. Every mother in the metropolitan area would be in a panic. She could see the headlines now, "Dozens of Local Youths Have Recently Gone Missing: Do you know where your child is?"   
  
Sarah hustled Jake under the police tape before any reporters could stop them. They both trooped inside the building quietly, observing everything as they went. A uniform greeted them in the middle of the main floor. "Detectives Pezzini and McCarty," the pretty, young, African American officer asked.  
  
Sarah half expected Jake to flirt, flashing the young woman with a radiant smile and saying something witty. He didn't. He was uncharacteristically quiet. Sarah nodded for them both. "yes, officer...?"  
  
"Lewis. Come with me. I'll show you where the body was found." They followed her down a hallway and stopped outside a smaller room, what had at one time probably been an office. "This is where I stop," Lewis said, paling slightly. "I can't look at that again. Poor girl."  
  
Sarah pushed it aside as rookie nerves and went right in. She wasn't prepared for what she'd find. The stench hung heavy in the air, sickeningly sweet and metallic. Sarah actually gasped when she looked at a child. The girl had been pretty once, probably. It was hard to tell.  
  
Her skin was shriveled and an eerie blue-white. She was completely naked, her long brown hair spread out in a fan shape behind her head. Her arms were crossed on her chest, but it didn't hide the gaping whole in her chest, where her heart should have been. Her eyes too, were missing, leaving two gaping, wretched holes.   
  
It was then that Sarah lost what little control she had over the Witchblade. Hazy memories were thrust into her mind. There were too many to count and coming to fast for all to register, but they all did, at some level. She saw a shrouded black figure briefly, wielding a knife in one hand. But it was more than the sights, she could feel what the girl felt. Her eyes had been taken while she yet lived, and the anguished screams rang loudly in Sarah's ears.  
  
Sarah bit back a scream at the last possible moment before it crossed her lips. She slapped a hand over her mouth, fighting back the bile which threatened to spill over. She had never had such problems in the days before the Witchblade. Empathy, she could live without.  
  
Sarah turned away, her knees feeling weak and tired. But there was no strong hand, no comforting shoulder to lean on. Sarah started, realizing that she had grown used to Jake being there, beside her, but he wasn't this time.  
  
Her eyes found him moments later. The blonde man was staring blankly down on the form of the little girl. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets. He never blinked, and Sarah watched for a while. "Jake." The name garnered no response. "hey Jake," Sarah tugged on his arm.  
  
Her partner turned, still looking glazed over and out of it. He blinked slowly. "Let's get out of here," Sarah led him out of the room. She saw out of the corner of her eye as the girl was zipped into the body bag. She pitied the person who would have to identify her.  
  
Jake leaned heavily against the wall outside the room. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead and he looked mildly green at the gills. Sarah's gaze bore through him. "What's up rookie?"  
  
"It's nothing," he responded.  
  
"Don't try and shit with me Jake, you're no good at it. You were completely oblivious in there. Do you even realize you're bleeding? Shit man, you've bitten halfway through your lip."  
  
Jake reached up reflexively, his fingers brushing his lip. Blood. He didn't feel any pain. Just hollow. "I said it's nothing, just a little intense in there."  
  
"Jake...."  
  
"I said forget it, so do Pez, God damn it! Just forget it." He brushed by her brusquely, wedging her aside with one shoulder.   
  
Sarah watched him leave. "Unbelievable," she muttered. She wasn't exactly sure what that was, but she intended to find out.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Okay, so I realize that had zero to do with the show's plot, but it was in my head. Qustion, do they ever explain why Jake became a cop in the first place? And why don't people use more of Gabriel? Oh yeah, did you like it? Should I continue?  



	2. New Complications

Chapter 2:   
Author's Note: Wow, thank you everybody that reviewed. Uh, like I said before, I do take some leave with the family history here, but it shouldn't be too out there. The later chapters are going to stretch the realms of believability a bit, but what the hey right? OK, hate to disappoint, but I will probably never do an Ian/Sarah fic, the whole, blood of my blood thing is too weird for me. Have fun, and please read and review.  
Disclaimer: haven't I done this already?  
  
~*~  
"What the hell was that?" Sarah whispered fiercely, her eyes sweeping the room to make sure that no one was close enough to hear her talking to thin air. That was an ever present problem when you were the only person that could see a ghost, the rest of the living tended to think you were nuts.  
  
"Why are you asking me?" Danny snipped at her.  
  
"Well unless something has changed in the last few hours, you would be the dead, omnipotent one right?" Sarah remarked.  
  
"Omnipotent when it comes to you, not your bleached blonde beach boy partner."  
  
"Hey, I thought you liked him, said that he was 'getting better.'"  
  
Danny shrugged, "Eh. He has his moments. But he's not me."  
  
"Bad day in the afterlife?" Sarah asked dryly.  
  
"You could say that. Past history can get in the way, you know?"  
  
Sarah had been watching as two uniforms were staring over the body bag that enclosed the dead girl. Danny's little comment brought her attention back. "Well what the hell is that supposed to mean Danny?" she asked as she turned. "Danny?" He was gone.  
  
"Damn it I hate it when he does that," she grumbled to herself. Someone tapped her shoulder, making her jump with a small yelp. Sarah flushed.   
  
Officer Lewis was staring at her like she had suddenly sprouted a second head. She'd been caught talking to the wall again, how typical. "Would you like to speak to the mayor and the family Detective?"  
  
Her immediate reaction was to say no, but she sighed and nodded slowly. Dante would chew her ass out if she didn't treat the mayor with kid gloves. Most of the time that didn't bother her, but today she wasn't certain she wouldn't take the opportunity to slug Dante. Jake was so much better at this part, soothing the nerves of frightened relations. Sarah had never been accused of being a people person. "The family does realize that no positive identification has been made as of yet, don't they?"  
  
Lewis shrugged. "Doesn't matter. They heard that the victim was a young girl and all hell broke loose. The mother fainted and the mayor started kicking up hell with the media." She shook her head in wonderment. "People with clout, go figure."  
  
Sarah came out into the sunlight only a few feet behind the gurney. She approached the mayor and his entourage slowly, proffering her badge for all to see. "Excuse me sir, I'm Detective Pezzini and I've been assigned to this case."  
  
"Morning Detective." He offered her a hand. The man was nothing if not civil, she would give him that. She wondered briefly if this was an election year. "Is that my daughter, can you tell me?" The man's eyes were locked on the gurney, and the small bundled form resting on top. The look there was so gut wrenching Sarah had to turn away.  
  
Sarah leveled her eyes just below his, studying instead the tiny wrinkles running out from his mouth. "I honestly couldn't say sir. The body was fairly well desecrated and identification by way of the picture you supplied is difficult. I'm afraid that a member of the family will have to come by the station and identify the body." The man's already pallid cheeks drained of the rest of their color.  
  
Sarah didn't notice the mayor's wife until it was too late. The woman's hazel eyes were shrouded and glazed over, almost animalistic in their wildness. Her cheeks were stained by a trail of tears. "Trina?" She cried urgently. "Is that my baby girl? Trina baby, mommy's here."  
  
The middle aged woman leapt to her feet and jerked away from her sons. She ran toward the gurney, tripping and twisting on her high heels, but seemed not to notice. She even fell in the dirt once, but quickly scrambled up to her feet. Two officers moved in to halt her, but the woman's grief had overtaken her rational and she shoved by them with a strength that belied her figure.  
  
Her hands grappled with the heavy black bag, frantically tearing at the zipper and the bag itself. The reporters were eating it up, snapping pictures so that the buzz became a roar. Sarah and two other officers rushed toward the frantic woman, but they were too late. The zipper was wrenched down, revealing the pale, bloodless, emaciated figure of the corpse.  
  
The woman's cries went from those of anguish and sorrow to those of pure, unadulterated terror. She through herself away from the body screaming like a lunatic, her fingernails delving deep into the soft earth. The reporters surged against the police lines, no one wanting to miss their shot at a good photo.   
  
The mayor trotted over to his wife, purposefully averting his eyes from the girl's body. He'd only seen her figure for a brief moment, but it was more time than he needed. His wife clawed at his coat, her sobs becoming muffled as she buried her face in his suit front. "It's not Trina, it's not our baby," she kept repeating with barely concealed relief.  
  
Sarah sighed, her fingertips finding her temples. This was utterly pointless. This crime scene was a mess despite, or perhaps because of the mayor's best intentions. "My partner and I will be by to talk to you later on sir," she called to his receding back. The only response she received was a halfhearted wave before he helped his wife into their limo.  
  
Sarah trooped back toward a small crowd of uniformed officers. Perhaps she could catch a ride with Lewis and her partner, seeing as Jake had taken the car with him. Jake, at least that was a mystery that could be solved easily, she hoped.  
  
--  
  
Jake McCarty tried to keep his eyes open. He was in Dante's office, and his captain was yelling at him, but Jake barely noticed. The fact of the matter was that Dante tended to yell incoherently when he was mad anyway, but right now Jake couldn't concentrate enough to even fathom what Dante was saying.  
  
He blinked and his stomach lurched. He had driven back to the station blindly, only half aware of where he was. The moment he went inside the building his stomach turned on him and he barely had made it into the first floor men's room. The sour taste remained in his mouth, it permeated the air around his nostrils. He rolled it around on his tongue, not wanting to swallow. His throat was dry.  
  
He blinked again. He couldn't help himself. He prayed silently that Dante would finish with his tirade soon, for what he wanted now was a drink, preferably alcoholic, preferably strong, and preferably straight from the bottle. He needed to wash the image of her from his mind, the face that entered his mind every time he closed his eyes. He wanted it gone, and if alcoholic stupor was what it took, then so be it.  
  
She was so beautiful. Her hair curled around her face, the blonde tendrils accentuating the rosy cheeks. Her skin was the color of pale pink rose petals and were just as soft. She had amber eyes that seemed to glow with their own innate light. Soft silly laughter reached his ears, the laughter of a child.   
  
It was too much. Jake's eyes snapped open when he felt his knees start to give. He reached for a wall, a desk, anything to grab for support. He stumbled and hit the cracked drywall with a shoulder. Dante didn't even pause. /Please, oh God please stop this./   
  
--  
  
Sarah trotted into the police building, taking the stairs up to homicide two at a time. She was ready to rip into her partner. Because he had left with the car, she had been stuck in the back seat of a police cruiser. Lewis and her partner basically ignored the detective during the ride, which certainly didn't help her temper.  
  
She grabbed the arm of the first cop she recognized. "Hey Johnson, where's Jake at? We need to have a little talk."  
  
The tall, slightly overweight Lieutenant grinned stupidly. "Get in line Pez. He's in with Dante right now. Gettin the book thrown at him if I'm not mistaken. I can't believe he actually left the scene before finishing his preliminary report. Dante is hopping mad, personally I think he deserves whatever he gets."   
  
"You weren't there," Sarah told him quietly. "You didn't see. If you had you wouldn't blame him.  
  
"Sure Pez." He grunted, "About time the golden boy had his ass reamed."  
  
Sarah gave a slight smile, but fell immediately onto the defensive. "Hey, it's not the first time Dante has chewed him out. Won't be the last either."  
  
He shrugged, "Sure I guess. It's just that every other time you were in there with him and he was just a witness. For once Dante's pissed off mood has nothing to do with you. Feel proud, your partner is following in your shoes."  
  
"Whatever, just go on about your business Johnson and I'll find out what's up. You weren't exactly a fountain of useful information." This earned her a glare and a quick departure.  
  
Sarah made her way toward Dante's office. She could see Dante through his window, walking around and waving his arms about. The deep scowl and throbbing vein in his neck told her that Dante was ready to bust some heads.   
  
Five minutes later Jake left the office. Sarah almost did a double take when she saw him. His perpetual tan was barely noticeable; his face drawn, tight and pale. His eyes were hollow, defeated. He looked like he might be sick. Sarah looked again. Maybe he had already been sick.  
  
Jake sat heavily in the chair behind his desk. He had walked by Sarah without so much as a nod. Suddenly he looked very old, very tired. Sarah leaned against the door jam. "What's wrong Jake?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong," came the muted reply. His face was buried in his hands.   
  
"You're never this serious McCarty, I want to know what's up."  
  
The younger man sighed and peered up at her through strained, bloodshot eyes. "I'm serious," he countered weakly.  
  
"Jake please, you still watch Saturday morning cartoons. You're the same guy that came into work an hour and a half early so that he could cover every literal inch of my desk with various Pez dispensers. But you've seen worse bodies than that girl today, I know it. SO what was it about today?"  
  
"I'll be fine, just need a little more sleep." He was lying and they both knew it. "She was only a kid. Why would anyone do that to a kid?" It wasn't really a question, so Sarah refrained from answering.   
  
"So you're okay then?"  
  
"Yeah, sure." Jake forced himself to flash her a grin. "We still have to interview the families right? So let's go."  
  
--  
  
"This is hopeless," Jake grumbled as they descended the stairs of the missing boys home. They had already visited the mayor, but nothing had come of it. The only family they still had to visit was that of the dead girl, a job neither detective was looking forward to.   
  
Sarah plopped into the passenger side of the car with a sigh. She closed her eyes and let the cool glass soothe her aching head. The Witchblade was on a rampage, flooding her mind with images and sounds and emotions. She could feel the children's immense terror, but her mind couldn't focus on their attacker. All she could see were two mysteriously glowing red eyes on a dark form.  
  
"I know what you mean McCarty. These files don't show any obvious sort of link between the victims. They went to different schools, their parents had no business connections. Hell, the girl is from the Brooklyn barrio, while Trina is a midtown Manhatten sort of girl. Private Catholic school, uniform the works. The boy too, these kids weren't cut from the same cloth, economically anyway."  
  
Jake slapped the wheel in frustration. "What are we going to tell her parents Pez? We're sorry your daughter is dead, but because you're not rich like the mayor's daughter we can't help you?"  
  
That comment stung. "That's not what I meant Jake. And you know it. We need a link, and no matter what angle I come at this from, I just don't see one."  
  
He mumbled an apology. "I know you didn't mean it like that Pez. I'm just, I'm frustrated." He pulled the car into an empty spot a block away from the Connor's apartment.  
  
The girl's parents were still in a state of shock. Uniforms had brought them the news of their daughter's death a few hours before. The mother was sobbing quietly and the father was doing his best to remain strong, but Sarah didn't miss the glassy eyes.  
  
Twenty minutes later they were still nowhere. "I don't understand how this could have happened. She was such a good girl. She never would have talked to a stranger, never would have gone with someone she didn't know." The father shook his head solemnly, his gaze locked on the 5x7 photograph of his daughter.  
  
"Do you have any idea who could have done this? Do the other parents know anything that could help you catch the man that killed Shannon?"  
  
Sarah shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, but at the moment all of our leads have turned up dry. The kidnappings seem to be completely random. But we'll keep in touch and let you know what's going on with the investigation."  
  
Jake took up the questioning then. Something drew Sarah to the window. She leaned her shoulder against the wall and moved aside the light drape so she could see outside. There was a man watching the apartment form across the street, a vagrant. Sarah's eyes narrowed. It couldn't be....but it was. She had seen the same man at the mayor's house and at the boy's. She wished she could see his face, wished that she wasn't quite so far away. The man noticed the rustling of the curtains and took off at a fast walk down the street. He disappeared behind a corner.   
  
She turned her attention back to the family. At least Jake seemed back to normal, sort of. "...Sir, is there anyone you know of that may have wanted to cause your daughter harm, to cause you harm?"  
  
Connor's sat thoughtfully a moment before finally shaking his head. "No I can't say there is. Everyone loved Shannon."  
  
"Oh please Nathan!" The mother spoke up for the first time. "Everyone loving our daughter was the problem. Did you ever think about him, that psycho?" Her face was red and blotchy from crying, but her voice had an edge to it, like she was angry.  
  
"Now honey, I really don't think we can go around accusing people...."  
  
She cut him off. "Don't be stupid. It was him I know it!"  
  
"Who?" Sarah prodded.  
  
"That bum, that useless piece of garbage!" The woman was not being very coherent. "I told you what would happen, and you told me I was being paranoid. Now our daughter is dead Nate, dead! Do you still think I'm being paranoid?" With that final outburst Mrs. Connors ran out of the room, weeping uncontrollably.  
  
"I'm sorry about that, my wife is very distraught at the moment as you can understand. It's nothing."  
  
Sarah's mind was reeling. Bum? Vagrant? Could Mrs. Connors have been talking about the man outside the window?   
  
"Please sir," Jake urged. "even if it is nothing my partner and I need to check out all the angles."  
  
He let out a long sigh. "All right, but really officers my wife is overreacting. The man is completely harmless. A few weeks ago my wife found Shannon talking with a homeless man outside of school. Shannon had given him her lunch money and they got to talking." He swallowed hard. "Shannon was like that, so generous. Anyway, my wife yelled at Shannon and the man, but right before she was taken we found them talking again. It's coincidence, nothing more. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on my wife. I'll see you to the door."  
  
The partners didn't say anything until they reached the car. Once inside they started to talk, letting the engine idle and the car warm. "So what do you think?" Sarah asked.  
  
"About what, the vagrant?" She nodded. "I'm not sure. I suppose it's possible, but how does that link in with the other kids? There are just so many holes."  
  
Their conversation was momentarily put on pause as a call came over the radio. Jake picked it up. Sarah let herself be consumed by thought. A few moments later Jake pulled speedily from their spot. "They just found another body," he told her grimly, and they took off down the street.  
  
--  
  
The dark man stood in front of the chamber. He didn't notice Trina watching him from the back corner of her little cell. Sweat trickled from his brow as he focused his attention on his open palm. He uttered a few words in a language Trina couldn't understand.  
  
A small, eerie smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. The crimson eyes flickered dangerously. A small red ball of fire had formed above his palm. It floated there, tantalizing him.   
  
His laughter filled every inch of the little room. His shoulders shook uncontrollably. He could feel his power returning to him, little by little it coursed more fervently through his veins. Soon, very soon his strength would have fully returned. Then he would go after her, to destroy the last of the line, and the Witchblade itself, forever.  
  
End Chapter 2  
  
Hope you like this chapter as much as the first. Usually I take longer than this to write another chapter, but the response was fantastic, so I figured I should post again soon, so you didn't lose your interest. Gabriel is coming in later, promise. Like it so far?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. history

Chapter 3:   
Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me so long to post. I've been blocked as of late and busy with school and all. Here's the third chapter, hope you like it as much as the first two. Gabe makes a cameo here, so that should make some happy. Am I the only one that gets the feeling he has a bit of a crush on Sarah? And, just one more thing, any idea as to how old he is?  
Disclaimer: Not mine, but wouldn't it be cool if they were? And by the way, for those of you who find this graphic, why do you think I rated it like I did?  
  
~*~  
  
Sarah left the second crime scene much as she had the first, dazed and nauseated. The MO for the second killing was identical to the first as well. There was no question now that they were dealing with one man. The little boy had been stripped of all his garments and mutilated, his eyes and heart torn from his tiny figure. His skin was unnaturally pale, not even having the sort of bluish tinge of many corpses. That wouldn't have bothered her so much as this tiny, bloodless shell.  
  
She saw him again, the hooded killer whose face the Blade couldn't, or wouldn't show her. She felt the boy's pain, his torment and his fear. She felt the killer's grim satisfaction and suddenly she was struck with the feeling that these children were only a means to an end for him. With every child that passed she could feel his presence grow stronger. Like in some warped way he was feeding of the lives of those he killed.  
  
Jake reacted only slightly less shell shocked than he had with the girl. The one good thing Sarah could note about her young partner was that he at least managed to blink this time. Before his eyes had remained strangely open, riveted on the form of the girl. This time he was able to look away, and blink.  
  
Jake followed her down the alley, away from his fellow officers, and closer to the horde of people now straining to see what was going on. Reporters hovered near the front, shouting at the detectives to get some answers. The emaciated form had been found in the alley between two apartment buildings. Tenants from both buildings had started the crowd, and it had only grown with time.  
  
The Witchblade hummed softly on her wrist. He was here someone was here. Steely eyes swept the crowd before her. Jake noticed Sarah begin to rub her wrist, like she always did when trouble was near. He'd always found it amusing before, how her wrist could sense danger like some people's joints could foresee rain. He broke out of his reverie and started to look hard around him, but he didn't see anything suspicious, just a whole lot of scared people.  
  
She passed him over twice before she sighted in on him. Tattered garments hung loosely around a thing frame. Long, salt and pepper hair, clung to parts of his face. Their eyes locked, and Sarah let out an involuntary shiver. Jake walked over, trying to look normal even though his heart had started to race. "What's up?" He whispered.  
  
"Front row. Tan trench coat. Gray hair." Her eyes never left the man's form. Jake peered into the mass. He spotted their quarry just as the homeless man turned to leave. He worked his way through the crowd, becoming ever more frantic as he pushed his way past the throng.  
  
Sarah and Jake walked as a single unit, striding together toward the edge of the police barrier. Their steps lengthened together, and by the time they reached the first row of people, they were almost running. Sarah let Jake go first, the bigger man pushing his way past people like a linebacker. Sarah scurried behind him, through the empty line he had made.  
  
They spotted the man together, half a block away, heading into a densely populated area of apartment buildings. The alleyways there were like labyrinths, so intricately laid out that one could easily become lost. Once free of the spectators they both broke into a hard sprint. Sarah unclipped the latch of her holster, holding her hand just above the butt of her pistol.  
  
As Jake gained speed, Sarah fell slowly behind. His strides were longer than hers, and no matter how fast she ever ran, she would always be at a disadvantage in that respect. Jake concentrated only on the man ahead of him, the trench coat now flapping behind him, a flag flying high in the wind. His feet skimmed over the pavement, and he had never before run so fast in his life. His lungs burned for more air and he pushed harder.  
  
Frantic and desperate the homeless man turned sharply into a nearby alley. Jake couldn't have been more than five yards behind him at that point. No, there was no way in hell he was going to lose this guy now. Not when he was so close. He hit the turn at full speed, and his legs flew out from under him just as quickly. The blue eyes that had been so riveted on the fleeing man never even noticed the large patch of ice. He hit the pavement with an audible thud, sliding out of control across the ground. Dense particles of dirt and stone tore through his pant legs and delved deep into his flesh. He hit the wall of the building feet first and lay there, stunned.  
  
Jake's right side ached furiously and he cursed his own clumsiness. His head was screaming for him to rise, but for some reason his body seemed unable to comply. He heard footsteps approaching. Sarah leapt over the patch as neatly as a gazelle. She never stopped, never wavered.  
  
The destitute man was less than fit. He was trying to scale a seven foot high wooden wall at the end of the alley, without much success. Flat soled loafer scraped and slid on the boards, failing to catch hold. Sarah almost had him; she could feel it. She reached the wall and jumped for all she was worth, her fingers just scraping the hell of the man's shoe. He had finally found enough of a grip to fling himself over the wall. Sarah took a deep breath, a step back, and then launched herself at the fence once more. Being far more nimble and fit, she reached the top in short order.  
  
Her quarry was just picking himself off the ground. His coat was streaked with mud, caked by grime from the streets. A second thought didn't cross her mind. She just jumped. Landing hard on the man's back she slammed him into the ground. His arms were wrenched behind his back, the handcuffs on almost before he could blink. Sarah brushed a stray piece of hair from her face.  
  
Jake arrived a moment later. He too climbed the wall. He landed heavily on his left leg, favoring his right, and for good reason. Sarah eyed his pants. The denim material had been shredded, and she was hard pressed to see the difference between the dirt from the ground and the rapidly congealing blood on his knee.  
  
"You're bleeding," she said simply, yanking the suspect of the floor roughly. McCarty looked down on himself in surprise. Truthfully, he hadn't even noticed. But now that the fact had been pointed out to him he felt sore, his knee aching with persistent throb. His palms were scraped too, red and oozing from his contact with the asphalt.  
  
"Get cleaned up at the station," Sarah commanded. Ordering her rookie partner around was becoming something of a habit, and not one she entirely disliked.  
  
"Not before we interrogate this creep," Jake said icily.   
  
"No," she shot him a steely gaze. "Before we interview him. Don't worry, I won't start without you." Jake fell silent. There was really no point in ever arguing with Pezzini.  
  
--  
  
".....Tell me the truth Joey!" Sarah demanded from her suspect for the second time an hour and a half later. "I can't help you if you won't tell me the truth. Why were you there today? Why did I see you at their house?" She leaned menacingly over the table, her hands balled into fists. She almost felt guilty about pressuring the perp so hard. He was little more than a child himself. You could hear the youth in his voice when he spoke, bad grammar and all.  
  
Jake's incessant pacing was becoming tiresome. She could see the younger man out of the corner of her eye, limping around at the back of the room. He hadn't stopped moving once the entire time they had been in the interrogation room. He wasn't being helpful either, occasionally yelling incoherently at the man, but never doing anything that could actually be considered useful.  
  
The man averted his eyes, tilting his head toward the floor. "I told you," he whimpered in a tiny voice. "I didn't take those kids."  
  
"Then why were you there Joe? You knew about them before we did, before anyone did. I don't see how that's possible without you being involved. But you say it is, so explain it to me."  
  
"No. No, you're wrong. I loved them. I loved them all. I would visit them, cause I knew they was special. I wouldn't want to hurt any of 'em."  
  
"Special how Joey?" Sarah pressed. "Tell me how."  
  
"He wants them, he does. I was just tryin to protect 'em."  
  
/Enough, enough, enough,/ Jake's head screamed. This cock and bull question and answer wasn't getting them anywhere. This little shit knew where the other children were, and damn if he wasn't going to give it up. Rage and hate filled his veins. The blood roared in his ears. Jake strode forward, nearly knocking Pezzini over as he shoved his way by.  
  
"Protecting them? You murdered them you piece of shit! Where are they you perverted little bastard?!" Jake cried, his face crimson with color. Aquamarine depths burned. He reached across the table, grabbing the scruffy, little man by the collar and yanking him viciously out of the chair. "Tell me!" Joey started to cry.  
  
"McCarty!" Sarah rushed to pull her partner away, but his grip was like a vice. "Let him go Jake!" She grabbed his shirt and threw her weight backward, ripping him away from the suspect. She held onto him as she began to yell.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing Rookie? You're not helping!"  
  
Jake swatted Sarah's arms away. "This isn't getting us anywhere Pez!" he shouted. "Give me five minutes alone with him and we'll know where to find those kids."  
  
"We don't do things like that McCarty. Do you hear me?" His response was to leap at Joey again. Sarah held him back. Never, never had she seen him so livid. "That's it! You're done here. Get out."  
  
Jake turned to her, his mouth twisting into something dreadful. Sarah jutted out her chin a little more. "Get out before I have you thrown out rookie," her voice was icily calm. An animalistic growl escaped from Jake's throat. His hands found the nearby chair and he hurtled it across the room. The glass separating the interrogation and viewing rooms cracked. Then Jake stormed out, slamming the door behind him.  
  
Sarah stared at the door for a moment, stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief. She shook her head to clear it. She'd deal with McCarty's little temper tantrum later. Turning back to Joe she straightened her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. "I'm sorry about that. He's upset with this case."  
  
Joey nodded soberly. "I understand. It upsets me too." Suddenly his head shot up, his eyes brightening slightly. "But you can help! You can help me protect them."  
  
Sarah shook her head. "I can't do that Joey. We don't know who the next child will be."  
  
"but I do," he told her eagerly. "I can show you. Just let me go and I'll show you. I don't want any more harm to be done."  
  
"Show me how? How do you know who these kids are Joey?"  
  
He smiled softly, his fingers creeping toward his neck. "This tells me." He tugged at a little silver chain that hung around his throat. From under his shirt he pulled out a piece of metal. It twirled on the chain, glittering even in the dim light. There was something about it that was very familiar to Sarah, though she had no idea why.  
  
"May I see that?" She asked, holding out her hand. Joey eyed her suspiciously for a moment before consenting. He pulled the cord off his head and placed the metal thing in Sarah's hand.  
  
Sarah studied it carefully. It had to part of something else, she realized. A piece of a larger amulet. It was a fine silver, intricately designed. The silver part looked like a twisting ray of the sun, attached to a middle that was a deep green. The moment she touched the center, the Witchblade ran hot, buzzing crazily.  
  
"Joey, I'm gonna keep this for a little while." His eyes widened, making him look scared. She smiled slightly, laying a hand on top of his. "Don't worry, I'm going to give it back to you. But first I want a friend to look at it. He knows a lot about old jewelry like this." He nodded slowly, wringing his hands together anxiously across the top of the table.  
  
Sarah rushed from the room then, calling for a uniformed officer. "Where's McCarty?" she asked.  
  
The young man looked at her strangely. "He left a little while ago. Muttered something about taking the rest of the day. Dante is less than thrilled."  
  
"Never mind then. Take the guy I have in the interrogation room down to holding. Don't file any charges just yet either. Got it?" The officer nodded obediently, mutely.   
  
--  
  
"Gabrielle!" Sarah pounded on the heavy wood door with her fist. "Gabrielle, open up, it's Pez." She heard someone moving about the interior of the apartment. The door opened a crack and she spotted a set of dark, distrustful eyes peering out at her. She sighed. "Gabe it's me."  
  
The suspicion vanished almost immediately. He closed the door again, sliding the chain off. With a creak, the door opened and she was let inside. The apartment was exactly as she remembered it, dark and cluttered. A high tech computer hummed along in the background. "I need you to do me a favor."  
  
Gabriele flashed her a small smile. "So what else is new?"  
  
"Can the sarcasm bud, I need your help." She pulled the piece of the amulet out of her coat pocket. "I need all the information you can get on this. I think it part of something bigger. It might be the key to a case I'm working on."  
  
Gabe took the metal work from her. His eyes went sharply from the section to her. "This looks like it was made by the same guy who made the witchblade. Or made at the same time anyway. There are similar characteristics in the folds of the metal."  
  
"I know," Sarah mumbled softly. "That's why I came to you." She could have gone elsewhere, to Irons, even to police evidence, but she didn't want to. Somehow she doubted that Dante would have even humored her idea that the amulet was somehow linked to all of this. And as for Irons, he would have told her only what he wanted her to know. He liked keeping her half on the dark. Besides which, Ian would have been there, watching her with those hawk eyes. She trusted Gabriele, as much as she trusted anyone.  
  
"I'll do what I can," he assured her. "It might take me a while though."  
  
"That's fine. There's something I have to do first anyway." Gabe set the artifact on his desk, still examining it. When he turned back to Sarah, she was gone. He shook his head ruefully and went back to work.  
  
--  
  
Sarah waited outside Jake's door for a moment or two, trying to decide the best course of action. The ride over from Gabriele's really hadn't given her enough time to think of anything good to say. What she most wanted to do was chew out his ass, but something in her mind told her to hold back. There was something about this case that was bothering him greatly, and good sense told her to find out what it was before blowing off the handle.  
  
She didn't bother knocking. He hadn't answered when she had buzzed up, but his car was outside, so he was definitely home. Luckily some half deaf old woman had buzzed her right in. The door was slightly ajar; Jake knew she was coming.  
  
His apartment always managed to put her in just a little bit of awe. The richly lavished loft was far different than anything she would have expected Jake to live in. The only thing that seemed remotely Jake-like were the pictures of him surfing enormous waves. She closed the door behind her, and made her way toward the back. She could hear someone grunting in the shadows.  
  
Fists were flying as she approached him, and Jake was completely oblivious to Sarah's arrival. Hidden in the one dark corner of his home hung a well beaten punching bag. Thick rubber mats lay under and around it. Blonde hair was soaked with sweat and plastered to his face. He danced around the bag on his toes, in socks. Sarah eyed the suspicious red stain growing on the outside of the sock, and had to wonder how long he had been going at the bag.  
  
Every punch had something behind it, like he was trying to strike down an old enemy, a ghost even. The white wife-beater clung to his back and the veins stood out against the skin on his shoulders and neck. So crimson was his face that Sarah feared he might soon pass out. His hands were taped, the knuckles bound securely, but even there tiny pinpricks of blood were beginning to poke through. Two empty bottles of Corona lay at one edge of the mat.  
  
"Jake." Sarah tried to no avail. "Jake!" She yelled this time. Blue eyes flicked briefly in her direction before refocusing on the accursed bag in front of him. Sighing heavily, Sarah stepped in and grabbed the bag to keep it from swinging madly. "Jake stop it before you really hurt yourself."  
  
Jake took a few more wild shots at the beaten bag, but his heart wasn't in it any more. One of the punches flew right by Sarah's ear. She wasn't entirely sure he hadn't done it on purpose. He glared at her once more before stalking away, ripping at the bandages around his palms. "How could you?" He finally spit out, grabbing a third bottle of Corona from his refrigerator.  
  
"he didn't do anything Jake," Sarah told him more calmly than she felt.   
  
"He killed those kids!" There was something else in this protest, a note of anguish she hadn't heard before. "There is nothing worse in this world than someone who would do that to a child. And you protected him."  
  
"He didn't do it," she said again.  
  
"You don't know Pez. You don't know what it's like. What it must have been like for her, with him, alone with no one she knew." He stared past her head, his eyes glazed and vacant.  
  
Jake sat heavily on his sofa, placing the Corona half finished on the coffee table and his head in his hands. His shoulders started to shake. "I wasn't there for her. I should have been there, done something." Sarah sat down next to him, slinging and arm over his shoulders.  
  
"What are you talking about Jake? You're doing all that you can for these kids." Whatever he was talking about now, it wasn't this case, these kids. It was something deeper, and much closer to home.  
  
He lifted his head, craning his neck to look into her with those bloodshot eyes. "No. She was just a little girl. And I wasn't there, and she's dead. Oh God Becca." More than mildly confused Sarah pulled her partner closer. He leaned his head heavily upon her shoulder, weeping uncontrollably. She could feel the dampness of his tears seeping through the collar of her shirt.  
  
The Blade sent her flashes. She could see a small girl with curly blonde hair. She was playing in the surf with a blonde man. Sarah almost smiled. It was Jake, a few years younger and with hair that was a lot longer, but him just the same. This was a happy memory.  
  
Then came the rest, the darker images that would have to be explained. She couldn't get a read on exactly what had happened, but she felt Jake's pain, his sense of loss. The Blade stopped. Sarah hugged him then, really hugged him. She would let him finish this outpouring of emotion, this wave of guilt he'd been holding for so long. For whatever she had just born witness required some explaining, and Jake would tell her when he was ready.  
  
Chapter 3  
  
I'm really sorry this took me so long. Blame it on my muse who refuses to sit still and behave. Or you can blame it on the parents bugging me to write a college entrance essay, either way is fine. Have fun reading. Hopefully 4 won't take me as long. Hope you like it so far. Please review!!!!!!  
  



	4. clues

Chapter 3:  
Author's Note: Again with the writer's block, darn my muse. Anyway, thanks to all those who reviewed, but um, (cough), I could do with a few more. If that's not a hint I don't know what is.  
Disclaimer: No, I don't own them.  
  
~*~  
  
Sarah held him for a long time, letting the young officer weep into her collar. For once the Witchblade wasn't sending her any signals, any helpful clues. Hell, it wasn't even sending her any jumbled clues. But the fact was that Jake was hurting, and even Sarah didn't need the Witchblade to tell her that.  
  
Sarah remained uncharacteristically silent and comforting, and after a few minutes Jake ceased. He seemed to remember himself then, pulling quickly away from Sarah as if embarrassed. "I'm sorry Pez," he mumbled, swiping angrily at the eyes that had betrayed him.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For letting this all down on you. It's not your thing."  
  
"Jake please, you're my partner and I know something is up with you. I mean let's face it, that much is obvious, what I care about is why?" She touched his shoulder in a friendly, comforting sort of way, even though the gesture felt alien to her.   
  
"You've never cared before," Jake mumbled quietly, but Pezzini still heard. The words stung a little, even though they were true. She never before had cared, in fact, she'd done her best to stay detached from her new partner. She didn't want another Danny. She couldn't take another Danny.  
  
"Well rookie I'm here now, and I'm listening. I know myself well enough to know that that's a fair rare combination. So let's hear it. What is it about this case that bothers you so much?" That was a fair question, but then she thought of a better one. Who is Rebecca Jake?"  
  
The blonde man sniffed. He leaned back against the plush cushions of the sofa, raising his eyes to the ceiling. He shut them tight as if in pain, his face screwing up in a wince. "Rebecca is my sister."  
  
"Jake, I didn't realize you have a sister."  
  
"I don't," he corrected himself quickly, which only confused Pez more. "I did. I used to. But not anymore."  
  
"Wait, so you had a sister? Ok, I'm a little confused here."  
  
"She's dead Pez. She's been dead for seven years." He began to tap his foot incessantly against the ground. "And this case.... Everything about this case reminds me of her. Every time I try to shut my eyes I see her, feel her. And it's killing me."  
  
Sarah saw the tears pool in his eyes again. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, reining in a control of his emotions. He paused for a few moments, as if gathering his thoughts. "Did I ever tell you why I decided to become a cop in the first place Sarah?"  
  
She shrugged. "Sure. You were a surfer, but you took a real bad fall off a wave and had to retire. You've told that story, may I add in far more detail, to everyone in the precinct."  
  
"Yeah well, I lied." That statement of truth was enough to get her attention. "Rebecca is the reason I became a cop. She's the reason I reevaluated my entire life. If not for her, I might still be some beach bum. I was eighteen, and very close to a contract to becoming a professional surfer. All I had to do was win one event down in Hawaii. Just one. It was the summer after my senior year and I was so pumped to be going on tour. So pumped...." The glazed over look returned to his eyes. He was going back again, to that time in his life where everything made sense to him. A small grin played at the corners of his lips. "Becca would be eighteen now you know. Looking at nice colleges no doubt. She was so smart."  
  
It was odd to see him like this. He was suspended in a state between misery and happiness, wavering between both like a ghost. "It was the day before finals when I got the call. My mom. I didn't want to take it in the first place, but I did. She said that Becca was missing. I thought she was just panicking you know? I said some things to calm her down that I really didn't mean, because I was too focused on my run. I figured she'd come back. And while I surfed my way to a sponsorship," his voice caught in his throat, "my little eleven year old sister was being raped and murdered. They found her two days later, bludgeoned to death in an alleyway. I was in Cancun."  
  
Sarah felt a pang. She felt for him, honestly felt for him. There was no Blade forcing his emotions into her body. She honestly, genuinely sympathized. The only problem was, that she wasn't sure exactly how to respond. "It wasn't you fault Jake. You were thousands of miles away."  
  
Jake jumped up from the couch. "Exactly! I was thousands of miles away, having fun, while my sister was being tortured. I should have been at home, with my mom. I should have done something! And I mean something other than catching a wave. I got home the day of the funeral. It had to be a closed casket she was beaten so badly. Everyone was crying. There were little white rosebuds on everything, because they were her favorite. I got to see my sister be buried that day, but I never got the chance to say goodbye. That was the day I decided that no other family would have to go through that. So I quit the tour. That's why I'm a cop Sarah. Because I'm a lousy human being."  
  
"Aww geeze McCarty, you're not a lousy human being. You were a kid. You were a kid who had his priorities messed up, but you got it all sorted out in the end. Now you're a fine officer and a good man who has saved many, many lives. Let's just make sure these kids are the next on that list huh?"  
  
McCarty managed a weak smile. He sat back down on the couch, offering his hand for Pez to shake. "I'm with you there, partner." Sarah grasped his hand firmly in her own. And the Witchblade began to hum.  
  
--  
  
Bring......Bring..... bri..... "hello?" Sarah said sleepily into her cell phone. "This is Pez, make it good." Sarah blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust to the dim light in the interior of Jake's apartment. They'd fallen asleep on his couch after sharing in a couple of beers the night before. At the present moment Jake was still asleep on the far end of the sofa, snoring softly and drooling into one of his pillows. A lock of his hair had fallen across his brow. Sarah rubbed at the crick in her neck and smiled. He looked so young, so innocent like that.  
  
"Pez? It's Gabriele. I think I got some information on that artifact you brought over yesterday. Of course, I don't think you're gonna like it."  
  
"I'll be right there. Don't move." She slowly stood from the couch, grabbing her leather jacket as she went. Her watch said that it was only five in the morning. She shouldn't have been surprised. Gabriele could get so wound up in something that he could forget just about everything else, including sleep.  
  
--  
  
The door to Gabe's little rattrap apartment was open when Pez came down the hallway. She hadn't needed to buzz, the front door never locked anyway. She just let herself in. She almost tripped over a large, ancient looking wood chest. Gabe was busy in front of his computer, his fingers flying across the keys.  
  
"Shut the door," he said without looking up.   
  
Pez complied, then moved over to stand behind Gabe. She leaned over his shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she viewed the picture on the screen. It was the same as the amulet she had brought to Gabe, but whole. It was the size of a man's fist. Four rays of twisting shot off from the green center stone, that even on the screen appeared to glow and move.  
  
"What is it?" Sarah asked.  
  
"it's an amulet," Gabe replied. "And it's old, probably as old as the Witchblade, if not older. This picture was taken in 1976, only two months before the Museum it was being displayed in was ransacked. The amulet was broken into three pieces, one of which, God knows why or how, you have in your possession now. Another piece is still on display in a private collection, and the last piece, the largest piece, is still missing."  
  
Gabriele swiveled in his chair to face Pezzini. "But there's more. Legend has it, that this amulet has the power to give immortal life to the person it chooses worthy. But eternal life is not without it's sacrifices. The amulet derives it's power from the souls of the innocent. Of course, in granting life through the destruction of souls, your soul is condemned to eternal damnation. The last person who used it was killed a long time ago, by Joan of Arc no less." Gabriele wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. "So much for immortality."  
  
Sarah wasn't smiling. Her lips were pressed so firmly together they almost disappeared. A muscle in her jaw twitched. "Hey Gabe, that computer wouldn't happen to tell you exactly who the amulet belonged to when the museum was ransacked, does it?"  
  
"Funny you should ask," he turned back to the computer. "You know the guy after all. It belonged, heck, still belongs to the personal collection of one Kenneth Irons." he heard the door slam shut. "Sarah?" She was gone. She didn't really have to hear the answer, she already knew, Gabe just confirmed it.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
I am so royally stuck, and I am so sorry it has taken me this long. Please read and review. 


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